


Splish Splash

by thebabytiger



Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: Bathtubs, F/F, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebabytiger/pseuds/thebabytiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cloth dipped lower, under the water, it's destination obvious; Kenya, unable to help herself, moaned aloud. Stahma startled visibly at the noise, cloth coming back above the water level, whirling around with a large splash to face the human panting with desire, though flushed with embarrassment, in the doorway. "Kenya, I didn't hear you come in. Did you need something?" "I, uh, I had been hoping to join you."  </p><p>Takes place in 1x8. WhiteRose. Inspired by something said on Twitter once by the lovely @womenofdefiance</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Need/Want

**Author's Note:**

> So once upon a time @womenofdefiance said a thing and then I said a thing back and here we are. Thanks to her for providing the inspiration.

The sound of water filling the tub stopped abruptly with a slight squeak of the tap, catching Kenya Rosewater's attention as she started to doze. Without looking, she could already imagine the scene in her modest but spacious bathroom as slowly but surely the pale white skin of her Castithan lover was immersed in the hot water. The thought of Stahma Tarr, so relaxed and unguarded, shot a pang of emotion running through the human, and she found herself wishing, longing for the woman who had only just left her bed. Though her lover had only been gone for as long as it would take to fill a tub, the brunette already found herself wanting more.

It wasn't simply about companionship. Kenya had more than her fair share of clients to keep her company, and had taken a small handful of lovers from among that group over the years since her husband's disappearance, but there was something about Stahma that made her so much more than a client, or a lover. Her allure wasn't rooted in Kenya's dislike for Datak Tarr, though there was an undeniable appeal to chupping his wife with him foolishly none the wiser. He would undoubtedly be incensed and Datak when angered was not only unpredictable, but incredibly dangerous. It was taking her life in her hands, and the same went for Stahma, to be carrying on this affair, but even that wasn't the root of the thrill she felt being near the Castithan woman in this manner. However, knowing all the things it wasn't didn't get her any closer to actually knowing what is was about Stahma that had her absolutely spellbound.

What they had was by now a well-established routine. Stahma never dallied at the Need/Want, never dallied in Kenya's bed, and instead rose with no physical trace of reluctance, although her lips gave utterance to the words easily enough, to draw a bath. Kenya was no stranger to the small facet of Castithan bathing culture that went on after the allotted time was up. Each and every Castithan who indulged themselves in this behavior also took fastidious care to bathe afterwards, quite fastidiously cleaning off the scent of human and sex from their skin. Kenya had never interrupted them, never knew what went on in that bathroom, and indeed was nearly always out the door and onto the next customer before they had finished. However, none of the others were Stahma, and none of the others had had the pleasure of using Kenya's private en suite. The proprietor idly wondered if Stahma even realized that this was her private suite, rather than one of the rooms that all of her Night Porters used for entertainment purposes, but even that curiosity wasn't enough to keep her in the bed while her body still tingled with need.  

So she slipped out from between silk sheets, padding across hardwood floors covered with plush carpets and rugs towards the bathroom, plucking a robe off a chair as she passed and pulling it on. It was left un-belted to flare slightly behind her as she came to pause in the doorway, eager and yet reluctant to intrude on the peaceful retreat that the Castithan woman had made in her bathroom. It was clear from the first instant that Stahma was entirely unaware of her presence there, methodically taking a slightly soapy cloth and leaving a sudsy trail down first one arm and then the other, passing it over her shoulders, lingering on her neck, and ghosting across a bare chest. Kenya's breath hitched as pale breasts emerged from the water, the cloth slowly and deliberately passing over nipples Kenya longed to take into her mouth. Just watching the progress of that scrap of cloth had Kenya nearly panting, but the other woman was entirely unaware of Kenya's distress and completely unruffled by her own ministrations. 

The cloth dipped lower, under the water, it's destination obvious; Kenya, unable to help herself, moaned aloud. Stahma startled visibly at the noise, cloth coming back above the water level, whirling around with a large splash to face the human panting with desire, though flushed with embarrassment, in the doorway. The Castithan recovered amazingly quickly, features morphing from the look of pure shock into impassive, defensive submission in an instant. Kenya had only a second to marvel at the speed with which this woman, this amazing woman, had learned to shut down every instinctive response she had before pale lips formed words that left the human still loitering in the doorway grasping at straws.  

"Kenya," the word stretched over the wide, tight smile that Stahma always wore when attempting to assimilate to a new situation. "I didn't hear you come in. Did you need something?" Her tone of voice was even, Stahma's body perfectly still in the water, and not even a trace of anything more than a polite interest showed on her face as she looked up at the brunette through her eyelashes.

"I, uh--" Kenya honestly wasn't sure what to say. Arousal and embarrassment made her throat tight and her tongue feel heavy and clumsy in her mouth. She could feel the blush growing to cover her chest and honestly couldn't remember a time she had been more embarrassed. It only made matters worse that she was, as some would say, a whore, and she was blushing like a school-girl over a little voyeurism. "I had been hoping to join you," she settled on after a small pause, not managing to put quite as much nonchalance into the phrase as she had been hoping for.

To Kenya's immense surprise, the Castithan turned a little pink herself, though even with that much color she didn't even come close to matching the palest of human skin tones. Lilac eyes darted to the tub before coming back to meet Kenya's gaze, pink tongue nervously wetting pale lips before reluctantly voicing the next words. "Surely there is one in your own suite better suited--," she began, but Kenya's hum of realization stopped her short. The noise abruptly halted, Kenya by now more than aware enough of Stahma's sensitivity towards being made fun of to know that this, despite being perfectly innocent and non-judgemental, was treading along a thin line.

"Normally I would say yes, you're absolutely correct," Kenya began, no longer quite as uncomfortable as she had previously been, "but in this case I believe you'll find my bathtub is currently occupied by a lovely Castithan woman, and I had been hoping she wouldn't mind sharing her bath with a human." She watched Stahma's face carefully for any signs of distress as she spoke, keeping the tone light and not demanding. She was not the sort of lover who muscled her way into getting things, and she suspected that this was a style that Stahma got very little of at home. 

Only a miniscule tightening of the skin around her eyes betrayed Stahma's sheer panic at the revelation. Kenya hadn't meant to cause alarm with her suggestion, but now she was wondering if it all might have been too much, to tell Stahma how much this arrangement was not like any other she'd ever had and, worse, to actually provide the other woman with a choice. 

Forced levity in her voice, Stahma's "ahh" sounded less like the knowing noise of ackowledgement it was meant to be and more like the noise that betrayed confusion and was intended to do nothing more than fill the silence and buy more time that it actually was. "I didn't know that humans also had a bathing culture that involved shared baths," she settled on after another short pause, so short that it almost wasn't there at all as the Castithan forced herself to stumble along trying to keep her feet under her. The next words came with a frown, "Datak is always so unhappy that Christy refuses to join the rest of the family and I had been under the impression that her reluctance stemmed from cultural differences." 

Wincing at the mention of Stahma's husband, Kenya hurried to reassure her, concerned that if she didn't nip that thought in the bud that not only would Stahma be terribly insulted by poor Christy's actions but also that any later correction would lead to the Castithan being quite furious at Kenya herself for what would be seen as toying with her and taking advantage of the Castithan's ignorance. "It isn't that black and white, Stahma." That, at least, was enough to pause that train of thought, however the frown was now morphing into another expression of polite interest and Kenya once more felt the need to explain forcing her tongue into action (and not the type of action she'd had in mind while she was hovering in the doorway, either). "For a human," she elaborated, raking a hand through her hair in distracted frustration, "bathing with another being is a decidedly sexual or romantic act. To bathe with family, then, is... well it's the sort of incredible indecency that is quite taboo. Even within these walls," she finished with a wry smile. She could tell that Stahma's brain was once more occupied trying to process the information, but didn't have the patience to wait for the conversation to set itself back on topic. "But since we aren't in any way related, I had been hoping you would be alright with sharing." The prompt wasn't very subtle, and she knew Stahma's brain was capable of unraveling much more complex word games, but she almost enjoyed taking the other woman by surprise with her openness.

"I see," Stahma said softly, looking down pensively before tiling her chin up so that she was looking Kenya square in the eyes, her pale lashes no longer obscuring the lilac gaze. "Why?" 

"I want to spend more time with you."

"I see," Stahma repeated with another soft frown, the words Kenya had spoken almost unthinkingly doing their work to turn the direct and sure woman back into a mess of uncertainty. However, it seemed that sorting through her thoughts took a very short amount of time, or had been postponed until later, as slowly the woman shifted in the tub to make room for the human. It didn't take much, as Kenya had ensured that all of the tubs in the Need/Want were big enough for such purposes and had gone through the extra step of indulging herself in an even larger tub for her private use, but the gesture itself was enough to make Kenya's mouth suddenly dry. Her feet moved of their own accord, and before she realized it, she was at the edge of the steps leading downwards into the large basin sunken into the floor, bare feet making slight noise as she stepped in and out of the small puddles of water left over from Stahma's earlier surprise. 

"You're certain?" she couldn't help but ask softly, stopping her movements before she shrugged the still unbelted robe from her shoulders. Unguarded lilac eyes looked up at her through pale lashes, meeting the brown, human gaze that met them before roving across a pale face set into impassivity, though also showing a quiet acceptance and a hint of yearning. Once more, the young proprietor was astounded by the sheer amount of control Stahma had over her body language, how even this moment was muted and cautious, yet how even so it spoke loudly enough to be certain and assured. Kenya knew that the Castithan woman was unused to asking for anything and that even the conversation that had started this whole affair had been incredibly difficult for her pride. She also knew that Stahma would only put aside her great pride for her son, Alak, and that it was this that had enabled that night in the Need/Want mid-razor rain to have happened. She was still unsure if anything else ranked highly enough for Stahma to put aside that pride at all.

Since there wasn't an indication that yes, Stahma was certain, but the Castithan didn't appear to be hesitating either, Kenya shrugged her robe from her shoulders, letting the silk fall to the floor in a small pool of fabric, uncaring if the material got wet. Very aware of pale purple eyes roving across her figure, Kenya swallowed hard and took the few remaining steps to the lip of the pool, stepping down onto each step deliberately, her own eyes shifting to meet the other woman's gaze and hold it. Stahma shifted away from the stairs with the motions of someone not truly paying attention to what they're doing as Kenya came closer to being fully submerged and took the last several steps with Stahma directly in front of her. Human eyes roved over the bath, noting instantly that the Castithan had backed herself into the corner and that a few more steps would lead to Kenya entering Stahma’s personal space and leave only a centimeter, if that, between their bodies. Wanting to give the other woman ample time to pull away, Kenya deliberately sashayed across the remaining distance, eyes never leaving Stahma as she searched for a single sign that the Castithan was feeling uncomfortable in any way. No signs came as the lilac gaze calmly met and held her own. Kenya drew to a stop a hair’s breadth away from feeling the water slickened skin slide against her own, close enough that she could feel the warmth of another’s body close to hers and feel soft puffs of breath ghosting against her skin.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly, wanting to make sure that she wasn't reading things entirely wrong. Sometimes, she had no idea what Stahma was thinking, and she half wondered sometimes if the woman would necessarily say something if she wasn't pleased with what was happening at any given moment. There was a small pause, utterly devoid of all movement and silent but for the small sounds of water lapping at the edges of the porcelain, and then Stahma was closing the short distance between them to press her pale lips against Kenya's. Surprise and arousal forced the breath from Kenya's lungs in one sharp burst through her nose, arms automatically wrapping around the body of her lover to pull her even closer, luxuriating in the new sensation of wet skin sliding against her own.

Human hands roamed freely underwater, sliding over the bumps made by slightly protruding ribs, the smooth expanse of a flat stomach, the generous curves of the Castithan's hips, and coming to cup the rounded ass firmly enough that Stahma gasped into the kiss and pushed impossibly closer to Kenya's lean frame, pale arms reaching up to cup Kenya's face. Little time had been wasted before nimble fingers had tangled themselves in brown locks, soothingly combing through the curls as nails scraped lightly across the sensitive scalp. Seizing the opportunity offered to her, the proprietor's tongue slipped past lips and teeth to tangle with that of the older woman, sliding firmly against it with an unhurried pace. Lips separated with a moan as Stahma's legs parted enough to allow one of Kenya's thighs to slip between them, pushing firmly against a heated core that was slick with a wetness that had nothing to do with the water from the bath. Wanting - needing - to taste more of the Castithan's skin, Kenya's lips moved over the soft skin of Stahma's cheek, dusting her jaw with a small peppering of kisses, pulling a waiting earlobe into her mouth. Nipping slightly, she released it as her hands moved from their former position on Stahma's butt to pull the other woman into her arms and walk half blindly back towards the steps. Even though the tub wasn't extremely deep and there had been a wall only a step behind Stahma, Kenya knew she would much rather the Castithan spread out across the steps of the bath than pinned against the wall and worked to make it happen.

The instant the Castithan was seated on one of the steps Kenya had stepped between her spread legs, hands firmly pushing against shoulders to encourage the other woman to lean against the tub as rosy lips trailed from the soft spot behind a delicate ear down towards where Stahma's pulse beat a steady, fast rhythm. Not for the first time, Kenya was grateful for the differing biological makeup of the various Votan races as her teeth sunk into the pale neck presented to her. Stahma's gasp was music to her ears, spurring her to bite just a bit harder before laving the spot with her tongue to soothe the irritation. There would be no marks when she had finished, despite the amount of attention she paid to any specific area as the pale skin fought actively any attempts of hers to leave a bruise with the force of her passion. A lingering, soft kiss was placed to the area before lips slipped even lower, Stahma's fingers clutching more desperately at her hair and attempting to guide her head towards the taut nipples that were practically begging for attention. The human couldn't help but oblige the unspoken request, reaching out with one hand to pinch and roll one nipple while the other was sucked into her mouth. The remaining hand aimlessly traced patterns across the pale skin of Stahma's stomach, one thigh pressing harder between the Castithan's thighs as Stahma began to squirm against her, desperately seeking more contact where she wanted it most.

Her lips continued moving south, Stahma’s nipple sliding from her mouth with a slightly wet pop, leaving an intricately detailed trail of saliva on white skin as her tongue danced in patterns across the dips and swells of the Votan’s ribs,  tasting the flesh as muscles flinch and move beneath her ministrations. One hand moves to caress a lean thigh, pressing harder between parted legs with her own thigh as the pink of a human tongue dips playfully into the older woman’s navel. Kenya’s unsure if Stahma has ever been quite so prone to squirming and fidgeting before now, although perhaps nothing has changed and it’s simply the sound of water lapping furiously at the edges of the tub that are causing her to notice the Castithan’s restless movement beneath her. A wicked grin forms on her face moments before she bites hard at the other woman’s ribs, the resulting moan echoing loudly off of all the hard surfaces of the bathroom. Wanting to hear more of the sound and tiring almost instantly of the teasing grinding of her own body against Stahma’s that does almost nothing to address the slick wetness between her own thighs, Kenya’s skilled fingers play over the older woman’s slick folds beneath the water. Finding her more than ready, a single digit is slipped inside just as her mouth finds the peak of a pert breast once more, sucking it fiercely into her mouth as the heel of her hand grazes against an already swollen clit. A second finger quickly joins the first, curling upward rhythmically as brown eyes eagerly watch the corresponding jerk of pale hips as Stahma's body proves it's helplessness to Kenya's skill. 

A single second spans an eternity and Kenya has no idea how much time has passed before the Castithan is falling over the edge, back arching and mouth open in a scream playfully muffled by a human mouth. Kenya's movements slow but don't stop until she is sure that every ounce of pleasure has been wrung from the older woman's body. Only then does she withdraw, running both hands over the smooth expanse of skin in aimless patterns, touch gentle but deliberate, motions soothing rather than arousing as lilac eyes blink open to pierce her with their customarily indecipherable stare. 

"That," the Castithan finally utters between heavy pants, sounding as winded as if she had run a marathon, "That was--" The heavy pounding on the door to Kenya's room stops her sentence short, allowing her more chance to catch her breath as Kenya's roaming hands start to take a slightly more arousing quality. Kenya, for her part, smooths away the mild annoyance and easily re-focuses on the woman in front of her. Had the disturbance happened but moments earlier there was some possibility that she wouldn't have heard it at all, muffled as the sound was by the distance between the door in question and the tub nestled in the secluded recesses of her suite. A slight shiver of the naked form in front of her alerts the human to the fact that Stahma is slowly recovering her wind, and with it her wits and energy, and within seconds Kenya finds their positions reversed as the Castithan's smooth skin slides arousingly over her own as the lithe form comes to settle between Kenya's automatically spread legs. 

This time, the knock coincides perfectly with a sharp nip to her collarbone, causing Kenya to cry out in mingled surprise, arousal, and frustration. It sounds even louder than before, tinged with urgency, and Kenya can hear muffled shouting. Stahma pulls back questioningly, but the pause is too brief to allow Kenya the concentration required to determine if they need to stop. Her inaction allows Stahma's head to lower again and the pink tongue is doing deliciously evil things to all of the sensitive spots on her neck when Kenya's thoughts finally catch up with her.

"Stahma," she protests breathlessly, swallowing a moan. "Stahma we have to stop." She doesn't want to, she certainly doesn't want to. However, when she is within her rooms people do not expect to find her working, and therefore she can (and will) be interrupted. Gently, she rolls them over, covering the Castithan's body with her own as she searches lilac eyes for disappointment, though she expects to find none on display. "I will be right back, okay?" she tries to be reassuring and apologetic, to make it clear to the woman that she doesn't want to have to leave. That she doesn't want to have to be reminded of reality. "It's just --" 

"I understand," Stahma says evenly, accepting Kenya's hasty kiss but not exactly capitulating as the warmth of human skin against her own abruptly fades. Kenya's lithe body drips water for a long moment while she reaches for a towel, carelessly toweling herself most of the way dry and retrieving her robe to cover her nudity. The towel drops to the floor just inside the bathroom, and slender fingers are already reaching for the belt of the robe. Kenya can feel Stahma's eyes lingering as she makes her way to the door to her suite, but resists the urge to look back. That would make things all too transparent. She can't, however, resist the urge to vent her frustration on the knocker. Frustration that was more than evident in the heated tingling of arousal that was covering her from head to toe and would not be deterred by the chill in the air. 

"What?" she snaps, swinging the door open just before a fist can meet with her door yet again. "This had better be good." It wasn't her customary greeting, even when interrupted, but she was rarely this aroused, nor was she often interrupted mid-pleasure. Circumstances would excuse her behavior, this once.

"Datak Tarr is here," she's informed without preamble, and those words do nothing to help her mood. She is most decidedly not in the mood to deal with the man, and his timing leaves much to be desired for several other reasons, the largest of which lies naked in her bathtub.

"I'm busy," she says flatly, making a decision on the fly. "He can wait a little. Put his drinks on the house and extend my sincerest apologies for the wait." This, at least, will give her enough time to get Stahma out of there; thankfully there is a back door. The poor girl standing on the other side of her threshold nods, but Kenya is barely paying attention as the door is closed forcefully without ceremony, the human's mind already on other things. Unfortunately, her pleasure will have to wait, and it will likely have to be a solo endeavor. Shtako.

"Stahma," she begins the moment her feet touch bathroom tile, words heavy with regret catching in her throat, "you need to go. Datak is here and he can't find you here." Any relaxation that had been in the Castithan's normally rigid posture vanished almost instantly. "I can buy you enough time to bathe and then I will sneak you out the back door so you and he don't cross paths."

"Thank you," Stahma says with an air of frost that hits Kenya like a blow to the stomach, killing any last remnants of arousal that had rekindled at the sight of the naked Castithan in her tub. Kenya's lips part, though for what purpose she isn't entirely sure as words or anything else never makes it out, mouth closing with the quiet click of her teeth colliding forcefully as Stahma entirely dismisses her presence in order to tug at the drain to the tub. The human knows she will have to drain and then re-draw the bath, starting the entire cleansing process over again, if they want to escape detection. Her brow furrows unhappily as her thoughts turn unbidden towards the endless possibilities of a life where no one in the town needed to be afraid of Datak Tarr's reactions. Water rushing down the now open drain masks the sound of her footsteps as she leaves the bathroom to see to the task of getting dressed.

Her actions are held to a deliberately slow pace and so she is not left to wait long once she is done for Stahma to finish her bath. When the other woman emerges from the other room, immaculately dressed without a single hair out of place despite the lack of assistance that would be customary for one of her liro, Kenya has had just enough time to think over the next few steps without being left to dwell in the details of sneaking her lover from her rooms like a naughty teenager.

"I have one more thing to see to and then it should be safe for you to leave," she informs the older woman, trying to discern a reaction on pale features even though she knows there will be none. She doesn't wait for the Castithan's assent before sweeping from the room, lips painted a glossy ruby red curved into something she hopes is a smile. For some reason, the reality of the situation does not leave her much in the mood for smiling. Her time on the floor is cut blessedly short as her appearance attracts the attention of one of her girls, whom she is able to pass off the task she came down onto. "Apologize once more for the wait to Datak Tarr and tell him he may begin to make himself comfortable upstairs," she orders, knowing that without needing to explicitly state it that Datak will be personally escorted to an empty room and not left to wander around on the upper level of the Need/Want by himself. While it is not common knowledge that Stahma frequents the Need/Want as more than someone looking for a drink and some food, it is impossible to keep such a thing entirely secret from all of the workers. It is enough that they are somehow keeping a pretense with the clientele. Her girls will look out for her interests, and that includes keeping silent with regards to the dangerous line Kenya is walking with regards to the Tarrs. The girl is already gone to see to the orders and Kenya is practically out of the room before abruptly she changes her mind ever so slightly.

"Tirra," she calls out, waving over yet another woman. "Datak Tarr is upstairs and I would like for you to see to his needs tonight." Her words are simple, delivered with the simple carelessness of one who expects not to be questioned. She is sure Tirra has questions, after all Datak is very well known for being incredibly picky, but Kenya's entire soul is feeling just a little bit too battered and too bruised to feel up to dealing with Datak and his needs. Especially not when she would rather his wife see to her, still unsated, needs. She doesn't think she can mask her disappointment that the very man they are discussing is the very reason she has yet to have her needs met and while very selectively oblivious, she thinks that Datak might notice her mood and the lack of enthusiasm that can't quite be covered up. Tirra has questions, of course, but she thankfully sticks to the more practical ones and Kenya is very quickly able to reassure her to the point where the other woman is practically thanking her for the honor of passing along one of their more, arguably, important clients. What's more, Tirra easily understands that things may get off to a rocky start, and agrees to wait a few moments so that Kenya will be available to listen in, close enough to spring to the rescue should it be needed. The proprietor doesn't mention that she suspects Datak will not react well to the change, and she may quite possibly lose his business, but can't bring herself to care. Getting her heart even the smallest bit entangled in this god-awful love triangle was bad business from the beginning, and she has been waiting for the damage to become more apparent.

Free to leave the room, she sweeps one more cursory glance over the room, noting Datak's absence, and returns upstairs. Stahma only inclines her head and follows the younger Rosewater's lead as she leads them from her quarters through the halls to the small back stairway leading out onto the street.

"Thank you for this evening, Kenya," Stahma finally says, turning to address her with that too-wide-to-be-human smile that never quite reaches impassive lilac eyes. "The interruption was most regrettable." Though the words are fairly detached, as though Stahma was talking about the weather or something else incredibly mundane, they are enough to soothe the empty cold sensation that had rooted in the pit of Kenya's stomach the moment the Castithan had moved to drain the tub.

"It was." She smiles softly with the words as Stahma nods curtly and takes the last few steps to the street. Kenya stays standing in that spot until she can no longer see the Castithan woman walking through the light crowds before turning back into the Need/Want. 

The hallways on the upper floor of the Need/Want are fairly quiet, broken only by the soft sounds of clinking bottles and general merriment from downstairs and the occasional noise from within one of the rooms on the upper floors. Kenya had deliberately spent time reinforcing the walls so that they weren't paper-thin, but had deliberately left them still thin enough that sound, if it was loud enough, could be heard. The result was enough silence to feel alone, but enough noise to know when one wasn't alone or there was something that needed urgent attention. Kenya was just turning to head down the stairs as Tirra was stepping onto the landing, only a few steps below her.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," Kenya utters significantly, gesturing the other woman in front of her and following her to the door of the suite she had set aside for Datak's use. It was reminiscent to her own set of rooms, only this one had several different, smaller rooms that Kenya could wait in unobserved by anyone passing through the hallways as well as the occupants of the room. Tirra entered first, closing the door behind them both, and Kenya stepped quietly through to a smaller offshoot room to the side. Even if Datak tried to leave, she would not be easily noticed. Sitting down to wait, she busied herself with trying to hear through the series of rooms, three in all, trying to pick up on the sounds of conversation. Seconds passed slowly. For a long moment Kenya thought that she might have assumed incorrectly about Datak's reaction and allowed some amount of relief to seep into her however, that sense of relief didn't last long before being chased away by the sound of Datak's voice.

"What in the three worlds do you think you're doing?" he asked cooly. Kenya stood quietly, only a slight rustle of silk betraying the movement as Tirra answered him in a tone that showed she was determined to keep her calm despite the question. 

"Anything you want me to." 

"I requested an appointment with Kenya Rosewater." The sound of a body roughly hitting the bed with a slight cry of surprise had Kenya moving forward and she was only a room away when Datak's next sentence left his lips. "You're not Kenya Rosewater!" 

"Is there a problem?" she called from the next room, forcing her steps to stay slow and measured as she crossed the distance to the doorway.

"Just questions," Datak says, turning as Kenya finally reaches the doorway, taking in the scene before her with a cool eye. She wasn't too worried. Yet. "Why are you not sitting on this bed removing my clothing? Why is this person here in your place? And why is my time being wasted?" Three sentences are spoken in a single breath and Kenya has barely reached his side before he's finished asking and is looking at her with a demanding expression on his face. The barest flicker of a glance shows her that while Tirra hasn't moved, the other woman is certainly not up for a round with an unhappy _favi_ Tarr.

"I've had to cut back on my client list," she said simply, stepping into his personal space and looking up at him, giving him the illusion that she is subservient and he is in control. She knows that while he may throw Tirra around the room, no true damage will be done to her and that even Datak knows better to attack her over this. Perhaps tomorrow it will escalate into something more but for now her physical safety isn't threatened by her proximity to him, and she is unafraid to stand her ground. 

Datak's confusion shows briefly in his eyes, always so much more expressive than his wife for better or worse. "I see. I would imagine I'd be the last client cut from that list," he says, as if this explains everything. Perhaps, to him, it does.

"Oh Datak, I can assure you that Tirra is very skilled in the art of love making," she reassures him softly, her hands finding the lapels of his waistcoat and then smoothing out and down across his chest. "And I've left you in very capable hands." One of her hands comes up to shift his hair out of his face and cup his cheek tenderly, though even what little charade she is putting on is just about all she can stomach when he is the reason her evening of pleasure had to be interrupted. At this rate, she isn't sure if she wants him to accept the switch, or storm off in a rage. Anything would be preferable to having to stand there and coddle his ego. 

He stares at her blankly for a moment and then laughs, slow at first and then growing into a full chuckle that lacks any hint of genuine amusement. "These hands?" he questions, stepping away from her and gesturing to the bed where Tirra still lays, his hand imperiously extended in a clear request that she put her palm in his. Kenya notices that she does it quickly, but with the slightest hint of hesitation and timidity that Datak seems not to notice or to simply ignore. "These dry, calloused palms?" he continues, flipping her hand around to examine the palm and then the knuckles in a seemingly endless examination. "These thick, _yavi_ knuckles? These hands are better suited to kneading rocks than flesh."

Tirra cries out as he squeezes tightly, crushing her delicate fingers in one of his larger, stronger hands. Kenya steps forward quickly, though she keeps her pace measured so as not to appear alarmed and grasps his hand, pulling slightly to indicate her intent without words. "Let her go, Datak," she orders softly, noting the delicate situation for what it is and knowing that some amount of deference would be required to keep him compliant. He ignores her, frowning slightly as he continues to squeeze, oblivious to Tirra's continued whimpers. "Now," she says, slightly louder, letting a hint of a steely edge enter her tone. _Yavi_ knuckles or not, Tirra's hands are important to her work, and she will not let Datak's ham-handed ways ruin things.

Datak lets go abruptly, throwing Tirra back onto the bed with the motion before raising both hands in front of his face, palms facing him. When he spits, Kenya controls the startled jerk at the noise that she had not expected. It is definitely a gesture full of derision, she notes as he rubs his hands together as if washing them.

"This tension has dampened my ardor," he says meaningfully, leaning first into her personal space before turning and walking briskly from the room. He grabs the door on his way out, slamming it hard enough that they likely heard it in the other rooms, but thankfully doesn't slam the outer door as well. Tension leaves Kenya in a rush, although the entire situation leaves many more problems to be solved at another time, chief among them how she could have been so careless to have lost such a frequent, high-profile, client. She sends a small glance to Tirra, who looks up at her from the bed with slightly tearful eyes, and sighs.

"Are you hurt?" she asks, fairly confident of the answer but needing to make sure. When the girl nods, Kenya is only glad that she doesn't have to chase after Datak and cause a more public scene. Though Datak's indiscretions are not a secret, even to his wife (or perhaps especially to his wife), she knows the powerful and hot-tempered man will not appreciate the disrespect shown by humiliating him in public with such a conversation. "You have thirty minutes. Take a break and try to relax," she suggests, uncertain of what more she can do within the constraints of time and business demands. Then, with nothing left to see to, she heads for the door, opening it and leaving it open wide.


	2. At the Tarr's

To say that Stahma is disappointed as she steps away from Kenya Rosewater is an understatement, though she knows none of it shows on her face. It is rare that human emotion ever does, and she has become so adept at playing the game that she isn't certain she could let genuine emotion show, truly show, if she wanted to. It barely matters if she could, as that would not change the fact that once again Datak's actions were ruining her plans. Her husband did always have that unerring knack for causing a mess, particularly when it came to Stahma's machinations.

She sighs against the realization that she now finds that behavior bordering on childish, where she never had before. Kenya Rosewater had opened her world to many things that night of the razor rain. It was her way to put her family first, to get her way through suggestion and manipulation and in truth Stahma enjoyed such pursuits. She enjoyed the knowledge that poor Datak was always so much less than he thought himself, and she thought herself content with such activities required to keep his head turned in the direction she wished it to be. No, Kenya had not introduced her to carnal pleasure, but she had introduced her to being left wanting. Whether that was a good thing or not Stahma had yet to determine but Stahma forced the image of what she had been left wanting this time out of her head and decided she would attempt to decide later. It was growing more and more difficult to completely rid the image of the youngest Rosewater from her mind, and especially so now that she young human had so deliciously tainted something so intrinsic to Castithan culture.

She never attempted to make her trips to the Need/Want a secret, so she did not attempt to pass through the dark but full streets of Defiance unnoticed. Instead she walked purposefully towards home, stopping now and then to touch fabric hanging in a vendor's stall, or to utter a few words of greeting to a passing acquaintance. Her passage was noticed, definitely, but as with most things in Stahma's life, such was her design. It was better to give people something to focus on, rather than to let their imaginations run wild. People could be easily fooled, but the imagination always spun such dangerous stories to fill in any gaps. If she could fill the gaps in their minds, at least, she would consider it a victory. She herself had been lost since the very first stall she had visited on that journey, fingering the silk on display and being reminded of the softness of Kenya's skin and the noise of her silk dressing gown falling with a whisper to the bathroom floor. from that moment forward, every measured, deliberate step Stahma took was haunted by the ghost of Kenya Rosewater.

Her disappointment grew into mild frustration with each step as well, mouth watering ever so slightly as she longed for the forbidden fruit she had been unable to taste that evening. By the time she arrived home, being divested of her outer layers by the eager hands of her servants, Stahma's usually sharp brain had been clouded with lustful memories and wishful thinking. The touch of servants fueled the fantasy more, heightening her senses but increasing her disappointment. By the time her robe was off she was ready to be rid of them entirely and voiced as much, dismissing them all for the night. Datak would manage, when he came home from the Need/Want. She didn't need any more reminders of hands that were so perfectly human and she did not need the feeling that signaled reality breaking apart piece by piece with every touch of pale Castithan hands to her person.

Her orders, as always, were obeyed and she stalked up the stairs to the chambers she shared with Datak, intending to change and grab a book but her attention was arrested halfway down the corridor as she passed the large room containing the large marble bath that was a facet in every Castithan household. her hesitation only lasted a moment and then, licking her lips, her course changed and she was stepping into the room, clothes falling from her body carelessly as she stepped into the tub wearing nothing but her beads.

She sank into the water with a sigh, walking across the floor of the tub to seat herself, submerged to her neck, on the far side of the pool with a view of the door. It was not closed, per se, nor was she entirely indecent, but she was taking quite a risk in bathing alone as such things were not permitted. It had been unusual enough to bathe alone in Kenya's tub, if only for the purposes of washing the scent of human from her skin. That was unfortunate necessity. This was thrilling disobedience. 

Her body settled easily into the water, melting into the heat like she had melted into the touch of her lover earlier and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of heat seeping into her body. When her brain started to drift she let it, uncaring if, in this solitary moment, she allowed her thoughts to be consumed by the brown-haired human that had so thoroughly captivated her. Memories of fingers mapping her skin sparked heat within her body that was not from the water temperature and she squirmed at the sensation, letting out a slow breath as the water moving across her skin only served to stoke the fires within her.

"Stahma," the familiar voice of her husband cut across the room, echoing coldly against all of the marble, and Stahma started, eyes snapping open as growing horror overtook the feeling of heat in her abdomen. "What are you doing?"

He seemed puzzled, as if thinking it was perhaps all a dream, and Stahma's head instantly bowed deferentially as she got to her feet in the tub. "Datak," she said softly, trying not to give him a reason for his mood to shift, taken too off guard to have recovered from the shock quite this quickly. "I'm sorry, I was just--"

Datak's next words luckily cut her off before she was forced to give voice to what she was "just", and Stahma tried very hard not to let the little seed of relief that bloomed in her at that mercy grow into anything more significant. "A Casti woman, bathing alone? What would the servants say?" She looks up at him, terrified, vaguely wondering if by mentioning the servants he is voicing an intent to shame her in front of the entire household. Her mind spins frantically as she looks down again, hoping that words will come to her and with them, a solution.

"I thought you were out for the evening," she says, though she isn't sure if it is meant to be the beginnings of an excuse or not because a sudden idea hits her and she glances up at him, this time with a slightly predatory glint in her eyes. "At the Need/Want." Datak's frequent trips are well known, of course, but had yet to be brought up between them, and she can only hope that he is off-put enough by her bringing it up that she can regain control of the situation.

He gapes at her wordlessly for a moment and then begins to remove his jacket casually, and Stahma knows that she has managed to divert his attention, though the rest of the conversation is still a great unknown. "I had a rather unpleasant experience with Kenya Rosewater," he begins, and Stahma's attention is immediately piqued, though that is partially because after the evening she has had she can't imagine what an unpleasant experience with Kenya Rosewater even looks like. "I think that woman needs an education."

"What did she do?" Stahma asks quickly, too quickly, but Datak takes no notice, too busy trying to sort through the event in his mind to be paying close attention to her reactions. Datak throws his coat to the ground and squats near the far lip of the tub.

"She refused me as a client," he says wonderingly.

Stahma's mind goes absolutely blank for a moment and then she says "I can't imagine what she was thinking," before she can begin to speculate too much about it in that moment. There is a time for everything, after all.

"It was odd," Datak continues as if he wasn't interrupted at all. "I felt as though she were going out of her way to disrespect me. Why would she do that?" He sounds so much like a lost child that Stahma finds herself moving through the water closer to him almost involuntarily, wanting to comfort him on an instinctual level though her mind is still urging caution. "I have half a mind to send Skevur over there with his skinning knife to ask her."

Stahma has reached the edge of the tub by now and reaches out quickly at the idea of Skevur going over there with his skinning knife but forces herself to turn the gesture into something less desperate than it's origins suggested. Grasping his hand gently she picks it up and brings it to her lips, locking eyes with him for a moment before returning her gaze to their joined hands. "Come," she says throatily, kissing his knuckles tenderly in an attempt to distract him from his last utterance. That is one idea of his that should not be allowed to come to fruition. "Bathe with me." That, at least, will solve the problem of her bathing alone quite handily. "Let me put all thoughts of that--" she breaks off her sentence to draw him into a passionate kiss, reminding him that while the ever delectable Kenya Rosewater may have spurned him, his wife was more than capable to giving him such pleasure, "--stupid woman far from your head." And she certainly is stupid, Stahma thinks as she draws Datak into another kiss, one that he begins to respond to almost instantly. This is still not the time to be speculating on Kenya's causation, but either way it has attracted Datak's interest and therefore has left them both vulnerable. Whatever the reasons, Stahma resolves to have a chat with Kenya the next time they meet about playing the game with some modicum of intelligence before she gets the both of them killed. It is bad enough that Datak has ruined her bath more than once that evening.

Disappointment, in Kenya's business decisions and in the sheer fact that Datak was simply not the human proprietor and she would not be able to finish even her fantasies in peace, fade away slightly as callused hands knead forcefully at her breasts and desire sparks within her belly once again. There will be no mistaking her husband's touch for the softer, more nimble caresses of a more delicate set of hands but that, Stahma supposes, is the price she will have to pay for the dangerous game they are playing.

When her moan shatters the stillness of a room filled only with the quiet lapping of water against the sides of the pool and heavy breathing, she does not know whether it is a sound born from her building arousal or the agony of being forced to let so many of that night's desires fall by the wayside.


End file.
